A Cold December's Memories
by The Ryanne
Summary: Germany is suffering from painful flashbacks. Total angst on my opinion of how Germany reacts to Prussia's death as a country  the character, though, will live on always . Fist published fanfic, so please be nice  .


A Cold December's Memories

Author's Note: This is my first published fan fic, so please leave constructive criticism. It will be loved ^.^ And, I am planning on putting a few of the other fanfics wrote up later, so, for future reference: don't expect all my future stories to be this angst-y (yes, 'tis a word, because I used it)

ALSO! Important-ness: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! I swear I don't. I know, it's so hard to believe. I also don't own Germany. The character or the country. I swear that this is true, too. In fact, I own nothing. Well, I own the order these words were put in. Yaysness!

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><p>"<em>West! Wake up, you idiot! The bratwurst is getting cold!"<em>

Germany woke up in a cold sweat. That voice hadn't haunted his dreams for months since Italy started sharing his bed, but while Italy had left it came back. Italy had claimed that the only reason they shared a bed was because he would get scared when Germany would wake up screaming from nightmares, but Germany knew it was probably more than just that. Anyways, the bad dreams subsided when he had his friend by his side, so, even though he protested it every night, he was okay with it. But, yesterday Italy had left to see his brother, Romano, and wouldn't be back for at least a few days. Germany wasn't upset with him for leaving, though, because he was the one that told Italy to go. He didn't want him to waste any time that could be spend with his brother, because Germany himself was full of regrets of taking his own brother for granted.

Germany sat up, trying to shake the dream off. This time, it was just his brother's voice, but even that always managed to kill a bit of him inside.

He walked down to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of pasta from the refrigerator, and put it in the microwave. Italy had left bowlfuls of the stuff "just in case," and Germany was glad, because he couldn't even think about eating bratwurst, his favorite breakfast, on this morning. Yes, Germany had a strange dislike for breakfast foods. They just didn't seem manly enough for him. Neither did pasta, but Italy just made it so good.

He sat down at the table, eating his pasta in silence. He remembered-back before Italy had befriended him-when he used to like being left alone….

"_Good morning, sunshine."_

"_Oh, shut up!"_

"_Aww, little brother, you've never been a morning person. Haha, little West."_

"_Just leave me alone!"_

"_One day, __everybody's__going to leave you alone, and then you'll actually wish your awesome big bro were here to keep you company, but I won't be, because I'll be leaving you alone, too! Ha-ha!"_

"Yes," Germany breathed, "yes, I do wish you were here…." He looked down at his pasta, but all he could see were those red eyes staring back at him. He threw the bowl to the ground. He figured the dogs would eat it, and he would clean it up later, or something, but right now he didn't really care. He ran to the door, swung it open, and, without even putting on his coat, jumped into the white outside world.

Germany allowed himself to fall down in a pile of snow. It was cold. He always liked the cold; it made him feel more awake. As he looked around, though, all he felt was sorrow. _White…._

"_Eh, what's that? You think my hair is 'lame?' Naw, bro, my hair's what you would call __unique__; your blond is boring, and totally the lameness in this situation."_

Germany tried not to cry.

"_Get lost in the snow? Never! That's what my awesome red eyes are for! Can't lose me!"_

Germany felt tears in his eyes. He leaned forward, going on all fours and staring at the soft snow. He felt dizzy.

"_Now, why would I close my eyes in the snow, stupid? Anyways, my awesomeness aura would provide a bright light that would alert help of where I was if I needed it. Not that I ever would. And, I know what you're gonna say, and, yes, awesomeness is a word. And I'm living proof."_

Right when he was about to collapse, Germany felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Italy?"

"Germany? What are you doing in the snow without a jacket! You always say that I'm ditzy, but look at yourself, silly!" Italy wrapped his arms around his friend, trying to provide at least a little warmth. "Switzerland said he heard you screaming in the night, and thought maybe I should come back and check on you."

"Idiot, I thought he said he would shoot me next time he heard a ruckus."

"Aww, you only see the bad in people, don't you, Ger-chan? You know, he has a little sister, and he really takes very good care of her, so I'm sure he has some compassion. And, by the way, Japan taught me the 'Ger-chan' thing. Well, not the actual 'Ger-chan' thing, but he taught me that people in his culture use 'chan' as an honorific for their very close friends." Italy smiled at his knowledge. He looked so proud that Germany decided not to mention that the honorific is usually used by young girls or for someone much younger than the speaker.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get to spend much time with your brother…."

"No! Don't be silly, I'm calling him as soon as we get you back into the house, and then he's coming over for lunch. I'm making pasta, okay?" Germany nodded and allowed himself to be dragged inside by his excited companion.

Even though he was happy now, he knew when night rolled around, and he couldn't sleep, the memories would come back.

_You were so strong. Of all the people to leave, brother Prussia, why you? _


End file.
